


|and set the souls for flight|

by littlekaracan



Series: |snow on red sands| [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Order 66, Depersonalization, Established codywan, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Obi-Wan Has A Lot Of Feelings In The Rebel Ship And Then Moves To Have More Feelings On A Planet, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:42:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28714473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlekaracan/pseuds/littlekaracan
Summary: Here was the truth: Obi-Wan could not feel the presence of a man the way it had been in the past, thousands of lightyears away. Here was another truth: he knew, nevertheless, what Cody’s signature in the Force felt like at that moment, for better or for worse. He could sense the all-encompassing awareness, and he could read out the pain. And, Obi-Wan thought, distantly, somehow, he looked so tired. Oh, the poor sweet thing, he must’ve been so tired.What he wouldn’t have done to be at his side, at that moment, all precautions be damned.Cody wasalive.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: |snow on red sands| [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039798
Comments: 52
Kudos: 284





	|and set the souls for flight|

**Author's Note:**

> (crashes in through the window) good evening
> 
> i hope you're doing well! this is a continuation of |free the hearts and rust the chains|, the first fic in this series. you might want to read that first :> basically just an obi-wan pov. thank you so much for checking out this one!

All things considered, Obi-Wan had settled well. Into the Rebellion, into the new war efforts, into his new name, into the mask. Both figuratively and literally - even though some slipped up still, who’d known him back when he was part of the old Order, still called him Obi-Wan. He didn’t mind it. Preferred it, if anything, but an alias was an alias, and he was hearing himself be referred to as Ben more and more often. Adapted to it. Of course he did. 

The mask he actually wore was quite the pretty thing, to him, even if it didn't matter. He wondered if he latched onto that slightest bit of aesthetic satisfaction to convince himself of his worth to the efforts. What was infinitely more important, though, was that the mask was convenient. Comfortable, good visibility. Split into four parts for flexibility, paintable and repaintable to match his disguise. Whenever he saw Luke, the boy would always reach out for it, and Obi-Wan would let him. At least Luke always returned the mask, as splashed by paint as it always would be. Leia, if she ever got a hold of it, would keep it from him for hours. He didn't know whether she was just trying to see if he'd find it or if she carried it away for a game or another, but he never minded. They were still so small, they didn’t know the mask’s importance, it was better that they were occupying themselves by destroying his dignity instead of quarreling aimlessly among each other. And if there was one thing Luke and Leia Organas, royals of Alderaan and children of the Alliance, loved - it was quarreling.

Much like their parents.

But Obi-Wan didn’t like to think about that.

He had only two littlest things painted on the mask permanently. First, there was the deep blue along the sides of where the separate parts came into one, where an untrained eye would just see marking paint, but a Jedi would see a sigil of the Order, and safety, and Home. It was dark enough to appear black in certain lighting, more so absorbing the light rather than reflecting. Then, on the other side, the one that faced his skin when he wore it, were three stripes - in gold. He could still remember painting them, carefully, tilting his hand this way and that - he had never really been much for making art, but this was a necessity. For his men. For the last three years when his life actually meant something. 

For Cody, most of all.

He stopped freezing to stare at those three stripes, eventually, when he brought it to his face and put it on.

So, yes, he’d settled rather well, thank you very much.

Even if he’d settled, hum, about half a decade later than he should have.

He still couldn’t quite forgive himself for that. For the five years he spent running around the Galaxy on a ship that was more fit for cargo than people, now, fighting against the Empire, sure, but he’d been too frantic, too erratic, too disorganized. He hadn’t even thought he had it in him to be this reckless with himself, but when he knew there was nobody waiting for him, there was nothing for him other than just another mile, just another base, just another murderer, why would he concern himself with his own well-being? All that mattered was fighting - and dying right, if he had to die. Death was never up to him. It was always the Force’s matter, and its matter alone.

Nobody could control Death itself, except perhaps the Force. The Galaxy rose and fell at its beck and call, countless lives lost and reborn. This was the natural order of things, this was right. This was reasonable, and fair. Even when the deaths themselves weren’t fair, the Force had in mind the bigger picture. Whether it was of all-encompassing peace or everything being lost in destruction, oh, the Force had a plan for every single one of them. 

Every littlest youngling knew this, knew that they couldn’t control Death. Obi-Wan wondered, sometimes, if any of them thought about it, when they fell to the clones' blasters, and when they fell to Anakin's -

They were children, however. He was certain that not one child had such dogmas in mind at the moment of their passing. It was far more likely that they were afraid, same as most of the Masters, because Death wiped everything from the brain, leaving nothing but the instinct to fight, run - but there had been no escape in the Temple, the one place where they all should have been safe. It still stung him, that. If nowhere else, the Temple was the one place where Death was meant to come peacefully.

Obi-Wan himself knew he couldn’t control Death, couldn’t cheat it. Not that he was going to try, anyway. No good Jedi would; not even a hopeless, helpless Jedi with his Order scattered to dust, shards of bone and flecks of blood, now living only in memory. Obi-Wan knew this, from his very first year in the Temple, that there was no stopping what was going to occur. You could fight against it and you could turn the tide, yes, but the Force was all the moons of every planet, and no matter how complex the mechanism to control the waves, the ocean always listened to the celestial, not the man-made. Obi-Wan knew this, since the very day he, as a toddler, found his tongue and began to understand speech, that there was no saving what could not be saved. 

It was one of the main philosophies in the Order, the recognition of the impossibility to prevent what was going to transpire no matter how hesitant one was to witness it. It was one of the reasons their animosity toward attachments was so prevalent the last few years - they all feared that loss would bring them down, because nobody could control Death. Nobody could save their loved ones when the Force decided it was their time.

Of course, that didn't mean they didn't love - they did, they loved, in such different ways, all of them, defended those they loved with their hearts and their lightsabers, but sometimes nothing would be enough. And a true Jedi would be ready for that. They all knew the truth - and what the truth could do to a person if it was not fully understood.

No, nobody could control Death. But sometimes Obi-Wan wanted to so badly his heart ached in ways he had never thought possible.

He missed - so much, every single day, that the life he had now was sometimes just not worth having - he missed so many things that had been ridiculously insignificant, just the tiniest details, the least meaningful sparks; simple talks in the mornings, walking across the Temple; being able to brush shoulders with someone and turning to them to offer a smile instead of reflexively reaching for his hip. Seeing the Padawans flush all the way to their necks when he bowed to them just as deeply as they did to him. Knowing not only the Temple but his men’s barracks, eventually, knowing what kind of drinks they drank and the games they played, being invited, sometimes pulled in, laughing. Taking care of them, making sure they didn’t worry about him in return. Talking to the Council outside of meetings and seeing them as friends instead of colleagues, no matter how many times he messed up, being lectured and taught anew, but forgiven. Fighting for himself, for his family, and for those he loved. Quiet evenings, sleepless nights. Gentle mornings.

Oh, he missed so much. He wished it could’ve all gone differently, but there was no controlling Death. He would’ve sacrificed everything, his own smiles, every single time warmth bloomed in his chest because of something done, something said, he would’ve given up every single brush of warm breath against the back his neck and every gentle hand that had ever led him, just so they could’ve been happy. Just so they all would have stayed alive.

The Force was neither benevolent nor malicious, however, and, due to a fault so enormous it hung over each of them, too massive to be pushed to any one spot, most of them, if not all of them, had died.

Obi-Wan had died. On Utapau, sensing that his men were _gone_ , somehow, their minds away even as the bodies kept moving, Cody - _Cody, his Cody_ \- ordering a shot on him. On Coruscant, watching the holo of children being murdered with the terrible efficiency of a burning blade. On Mustafar, finally, and every single day after that.

Obi-Wan couldn’t control Death. So he resigned himself to seeing it every single day, watching its tendrils snatch up life after life, and praying to the Force they would release those he held most dear still and all the rest with it, and hoping that the Force’s final plan meant peace, not a dead wasteland made of all the Galaxy’s systems as one, barren and scorched and standing vigil for the earth that will never know their sacrifice. 

Obi-Wan couldn’t control Death. And there was a day, finally, when he realized he had to accept it.

* * *

Obi-Wan thought the Force had decided that it was his time, when the Inquisitor’s hand stretched out to him and the molten whip of electricity slashed against his - well, he figured, later, that it was his cheek, but it certainly didn’t feel that way. It was as if Force Lightning punched all resistance and resilience from his bones, physically raised his soul a few centimeters out of his body before slamming him, the entirety of him, into the ground. It was freezing and scorching at once, and it felt like the combined weight of three Cruisers had slashed nose-first into his face.

He had no idea how he did it, perhaps because of the Inquisitor’s taunting, when he was on the ground, unable to make even a sound, his entire being twitching uncontrollably - but he had managed to compose himself, stick out a hand even as the rest of him spasmed and writhed on the ground, in pain that he had faced before but had been nonetheless unprepared for, and as his throat went numb, he stared up.

The Inquisitor thought they could control Death. Most darksiders seemed to think that, for some reason. One would think they’d know better most of all. 

The Inquisitor thought they could control Death to bring it down to Obi-Wan, which would’ve been true, perhaps, if Obi-Wan hadn’t known himself to be a child truer to the Force than whoever this wretched murderer in front of him was. The Force had many sides, destructive and healing, manipulative and nurturing, it was everywhere and nowhere at all at the same time - but every Temple-raised youngling knew a simple truth: when they wielded a lightsaber, when they reached out a hand and raised a pebble, raised a stick into the air, they wielded but a fraction of the Force’s might, of what it allowed them. They wielded only that which the Force was willing to give them, and trying to wrench out more than was granted would never end well.

The Force never bent to its user. Only its user could submit, and take what they were given.

Force Lightning would exhaust them, Obi-Wan figured, valiantly ignoring the fact that every nerve he had was burning, that he was hearing screaming and it was taking him an awfully long time to realize that it was his own voice going hoarse. Force Lightning would exhaust them eventually, and the pain would stop, and he would stand up and fight. If not for himself - he’d never fought for himself, not really, he was consoling himself if he thought he was - then for all the others this Inquisitor would reach, leaving his charred body here on the ground of some dustball planet after leading him into an ambush.

Strange ambush, really, it occurred to Obi-Wan, distantly, as blood roared and sparked in his ears, as he heard the Inquisitor shriek in frustration at the gall Obi-Wan had to still be alive. _Rage_ , he thought to himself quietly, _rage against the powerlessness to change the course of the Galaxy, rage against the futility of your actions, rage. It will not help you. It never does._

His fingers flicking up was more of a spasm than a legitimate movement, but his lightsaber jumped into the air anyway, flickered on, almost as if it could feel its owner being enveloped in crackling electricity, almost as if it felt his pain.

Navigating a lightsaber with the Force exclusively was a whole different skillset on its own, but Obi-Wan didn’t exactly need that. He jerked his arm to the side, sending the blade flying. Just behind the frame of the tall dark figure, just short of scorching their side.

The impossible shock intensified as the terrible laughter filled the air again, bearing down on him, on his throat, on his chest.

“What,” the Inquisitor hissed, pressing ever-closer, “did you think that was going to - “

Obi-Wan pulled his hand to himself and it was almost like it stuck to his chest, tied there by the golden stream of electricity, the lightsaber barreling forward and burying itself in the Inquisitor’s back. All the way through, the tip poking out of their chest. Clean through the heart, even if that part had been luck; unintentional.

For a while, he didn’t even realize that the Lightning had stopped. It still ached, it still burned. He couldn’t feel his face, his hands. It took him a minute to drop the one he clutched to his chest, to force his eyes to focus.

He was alone, gasping for air, with his lightsaber by his side, humming patiently, still in the guts of the Imperial Inquisitor. 

Obi-Wan just managed to make his fingers twitch, and the blue light slammed back into the hilt.

He lay, after that, in the sand, for a long time, and thought about Utapau. Nobody had shocked him with Force Lightning, on Utapau, but he’d lay there on the riverbank for a moment nevertheless, just like this, and it had hurt. It had hurt, just as bad, if not worse.

It was an hour or so until he could move again. Another until he managed to move enough to get himself upright, get his lightsaber, and stumble - crawl, at times - to the nearest settlement, alone. Always alone.

* * *

He’d just sent Luke off with his mask when Ilze knocked on the doorframe, leaning against it lazily. He hadn’t closed the door.

“News?” Obi-Wan asked, perking up. She only ever brought news. Didn’t much like the Jedi, which was, Obi-Wan admitted, justified - she’d been on the Separatist side of the ordeal. Not that it mattered anymore, anyway. He still had a sneaking suspicion that she somewhat liked _him_ , for some reason – or perhaps was just amused by his presence.

“Kinda. Probably,” she answered, gesturing to the room. “May I?”

“Oh, of course.” He moved back a little, unsure why, pushing himself further away from his table, the chair he was sitting on balancing on the back legs. Ilze stepped into the room, clutching something to her chest tightly, crossed the space in a second or so and stuck what was now visibly a holocaster under Obi-Wan’s nose.

“We’ve got more clones,” she told him, thumbing at the buttons. “We wanna know if you know ‘em.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan repeated, leaning forward.

Clones were - well, they weren’t a common occurrence, anymore. One of the best soldiers in the Rebellion and hands down the best in the Empire, even as they aged, they were coveted by both sides, and if they had managed to recruit a few more…

“What did they say?” Obi-Wan asked curiously as Ilze cursed at the controls.

“Some kark about the chips.” Ilze shrugged. “That they wanted to join. That they were awake and wanted to go and fight their own good fight.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “That’s reasonable.”

“Yeah? Just you watch it.” Ilze shook her head, stepping away from Obi-Wan once she’d given him the caster. “I’ll give ya a moment. Tell me if anything rings a bell.”

Obi-Wan nodded and put the holocaster on the table carefully, finding the starting point and turning it on.

An image flickered to life. Too much white, no, too much white. Where was this? 

Slowly, a Chagrian’s body focused in front of them. Obi-Wan grimaced, biting his lip, stopping the holo. “Is that Tilaka?”

“Yeah,” Ilze said, quietly, pretty clearly lost as to how he remembered, as Ilze’s sister was never on any one base for long. “That’s her, alright.”

She was a goner, it was pretty clear to see, her lethorns ruined, her lower body crushed under debris. Nevertheless, she looked onto what was probably a projection of Ilze with those light eyes she’d always had - now dimmed, ruined, fading.

“I’m very sorry,” Obi-Wan said, as he tried to project as much consolation into the vicinity as he could - she'd feel it. 

Ilze shrugged, empty eyes staring at the frozen holo. "Don't be. She died for the right cause."

Obi-Wan nodded, though he kept the steady flow of the calm. "May she find peace in the Force."

"She will," Ilze said quietly. The wrap of her arms around herself was most likely subconscious. "She always knew she would. Now let the damned thing play, Ben, you don't gotta be my therapist."

He let out a chuckle and tapped on the holocaster lightly, the hologram springing back into action.

The quality wasn’t very good, which was why he couldn’t quite see the extent of the damage Tilaka had sustained other than the parts that spoke pretty clearly - she wasn’t going to survive this.

Ilze’s voice gave out more proof, recorded along with the initial transmission, anxious and choppy, clear to tell even from under the mask they all wore when answering calls, deeper, more monotone.

 _“Breathe, Tilaka, stay strong, talk to me.”_ Obi-Wan didn’t need to see her to know she had gripped the table, staring at Tilaka with wide eyes, lethorns twitching nervously. _“Is there any way -_ any _way - we can still help you? We’re in Sector --”_

 _“No!”_ Her cough was wet and rattling; something had pierced through her lungs. A smart answer - that way, nobody around her would overhear their location. A little reckless from Ilze’s part, but that tended to happen when there were loved ones involved. _“Stormtroopers… They want to talk to you.”_

There it was: the strangest phrase ever heard in any Rebel base, on any of their ships. The Empire did not speak, they only eradicated every trace of resistance they could find. Their Stormtroopers weren’t even worth mentioning, most of the time. Unless, of course, they were turning tides, looking to join the Rebellion - but there were always so many impostors. That was why they began sending out lone agents, to see if the offer was truthful or if it was just another ploy meant to lead them into an ambush.

If it was determined to be genuine, well, they only gained more troops, but those occasions were few and far between.

The clones, because of whom Ilze had brought the transmission, allegedly, rarely ever contacted them first. The rebels would find them instead, and if they were alive, they’d already be away from the Empire. No clone in their right mind stayed. And if the odd deserting Stormtrooper mentioned a clone or two, well, it wasn’t exactly like they were serving the Empire of their own free will.

Ilze’s disembodied voice seemed to find the same problems with the statement.

 _“What?”_ Her voice grew a little louder when she leaned forward. “ _Since when do Stormtroopers want to talk?”_

 _“Stormtroopers don’t,”_ spoke a voice. _“But we’re not Stormtroopers._ ”

Obi-Wan’s hand froze. That was one of their men, yes. He tensed, ready to search for any marking, a tattoo, perhaps, the clones were always fond of those, or perhaps an unusual mark, a mutation, a different eye color, hair color, a scar - 

“ _Clone_ ,” hissed Ilze, as the hologram moved.

 _“That, I am,”_ said the man, easily, looking at the caster in his hand. “ _But I’m no kriffing Imperial.”_

Obi-Wan’s heart fell to his stomach, rolled down to his heels. He didn’t feel how his fingernails dug into the hard surface of the caster; he didn’t hear the scraping noise that made Ilze cringe. He did not sense his own eyes widening, his lips parting as he –

\- He didn’t need to look, no, he saw it as soon as the man looked up, dark brown eyes, defiant and almost challenging, and - 

And the curling scar around his temple, reaching down his face, down to his cheek, and the jaw that he set whenever he was feeling determined, when he was coming up with strategy after strategy, as he and Obi-Wan stood for hours after the meetings had already ended, when it was just the two of them in the hall, but Obi-Wan would stop talking first, sometimes, in awe of him, in awe, listening to him, nodding along as he forced improvements and replacements and suggestions, as he ripped them out of thin air, his Commander, his Commander, Cody, this was Cody, _Cody_ –

And Cody was standing in some ruins of their own base, breathing and talking and alive, saying they all were there to join, asking to come to them, asking them for a contact, for a way to reach them - 

Obi-Wan’s throat closed up before he even knew it. There were things one saw and couldn’t believe, and then there were things that everything around screamed were real but the mind took as an impossibility, too scared of such a thing being a lie. It was simply too good, too true, too much how it was always meant to be, and Obi-Wan looked at Cody, heard him say that they wanted to fight for the right side, for _Obi-Wan_ ’s side, and he refused to believe what his eyes were telling him until he knew for himself.

But, for now, he could look - he could look, and see, if not believe it, ignoring Ilze’s raised eyebrows next to him, ignoring her, ignoring the world, because right now it was only him and the image of Cody in the holocaster. He was in Stormtrooper armour - fair, well, all of them were - and his hair had grayed just a bit, like a crown wrapping his head, beautiful, _beautiful_ , and how had he managed to stay so strong, to endure seven years of the Empire when Obi-Wan had known for a fact Cody could never awaken and stay there, never accept what they were trying to put into the heads of those young, brainwashed soldiers?

Here was the truth: Obi-Wan could not feel the presence of a man the way it had been in the past, thousands of lightyears away. Here was another truth: he knew, nevertheless, what Cody’s signature in the Force felt like at that moment, for better or for worse. He could sense the all-encompassing awareness, and he could read out the pain. And, Obi-Wan thought, distantly, somehow, he looked so tired. Oh, the poor sweet thing, he must’ve been so tired.

What he wouldn’t have done to be at his side, at that moment, all precautions be damned.

Cody was _alive_.

Obi-Wan didn’t hear much more of what they spoke about. He watched as Cody’s lips moved, answering questions, he watched as he cycled through the rest of his companions - and then Boil was there as well, at first, Obi-Wan only now recognized him, and he felt quite like he was going to faint, right now. 

He didn’t even realize the transmission had ended and the hologram had returned to the caster until Ilze took it - wrenched it - from his fist.

“So, Ben? You know them?” she tilted her head, waiting obliviously for an answer, like this was how he always acted when she brought him clones to recognize.

“Yes,” he managed, trying his best not to let his voice break. “Yes, yes, I believe I do.”

“Great.” She pocketed the caster, flicking at his arm. “Can ya vouch they’re not gonna attack our guy on sight? Haven’t sent one yet, mind you, we’re a bit busy this tenday, but if you’re not sure, we can just pick one of the -… Hey. Ben. You in there?”

He wasn’t. Not really. There were so many things in him, right now, he felt like his mind was a swirling vortex of nothing but thoughts that ran too quickly for him to mull over, even to consider. He knew his mouth was open, that he was going to say something, but it all died down in his throat and he just made a strange noise that he immediately buried in his chest and pretended never to have let out.

“Ben? Obi-Wan?” If she was calling him that, he must’ve looked like he was on the verge of three panic attacks one on top of another, but he couldn’t quite say that would’ve been wrong. “Um. I’ll, I’ll give you a minute. Gonna wait down by the bridge, right? You, uh…” She looked, for a moment, like she wanted to clap him on the back or something, but just drew back her hand awkwardly and moved back toward the door. “You watch yourself, man.”

“...Yeah,” he said, just before the door closed.

A step back, another. He couldn’t breathe. Curling his hand into a fist, he physically held himself down with the Force as he collapsed on the table, knocking off at least a dozen flimsisheets and sending them flying around the small room. It felt like there was no air in the ship until he ordered out his breathing, until he shut his eyes and held the thoughts at a distance.

And then, when his heart somewhat steadied himself, he felt like the room was spinning.

He’d forced himself into believing Cody was dead, because that was the best thing he _could_ believe, really – that was certainly better than assuming he was still out here, mindlessly serving a murderous, unjust regime; and that, of course, turned out to be just what had happened.

Five years, five years of looking for him, because Obi-Wan had to admit to himself now that that had been his goal in that damned ship, finding Cody, digging out the Empire’s darkest secrets, the most confidential of plans yet failing, failing to pinpoint the location of one man - one would’ve thought he’d been hiding or something. No traces of the 212th in its entirety, a few lone men here and there that he sent back to the Alliance, and not one was able to tell him where the rest of them were; they were separated, and the chip cared little for their brothers.

Obi-Wan wished, oh, he wished he searched harder, even though the voice in his head that sounded strangely like a clone was telling him, quietly, that he’d done everything he could have. Nevertheless, he couldn’t help thinking - perhaps he could’ve found him earlier, and Cody wouldn’t have to - well, do whatever he was doing right now.

He couldn’t get the image of him out of his head. Cody had looked so tired, like whatever he was up to at the current moment was the only thing keeping him standing. Obi-Wan had seen it before, he’d hated it more than anything else, seeing someone on the verge of giving up, but for it to be Cody… What had happened to him? What had the Empire forced him to do? Obi-Wan didn’t want to know, but would’ve been willing to find out if it helped Cody, even if only a little bit. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t vain. He didn’t think him showing up would fix much. But he just wanted to be there again, to stand by his side and talk to him, love him like he loved him through the Wars and thought he’d love him after, in peacetime, for as long as he was welcome to.

Well, the Force truly worked in mysterious ways. But that wasn’t to say that the following civil war had somehow diminished his feelings. If anything, Obi-Wan knew that, if he didn’t find Cody, in the end, he’d live with a hole in his heart, and he’d been coming around to it, before now. Now, his chest felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out all over again.

Cody’s face, his eyes, his voice, it had all sparked a reminder in him that this was not over. Obi-Wan had things to do, now. So many things, as always, and so little time. It almost sounded familiar.

Of course Cody would be the one to find them instead of the other way around, Obi-Wan thought, in the end, as his shaking subsided and, to his own surprise, he began laughing - a little hysterically, digging his face into his arm, tugging idly at his own hair. He’d always been baffling, Obi-Wan had always been in awe of him, even now, when he’d seen him for a couple of seconds on holo - it was enough to know he was alive, out there, waiting for pickup. Even in foreign Stormtrooper armour, he was so familiar, so much his own, so human. Obi-Wan remembered him that way, had never wanted to forget; and perhaps would never have to, now.

Obi-Wan had always loved looking at him. Loved tracing the scar down his temple - the only disadvantage was that Cody would always close his eyes when he felt a hand on his face, and while it warmed Obi-Wan’s heart, the knowledge that Cody felt _safe_ with him, he then had to wait until Cody’s eyes fluttered open again so he could see them - there was something special about them, perhaps the occasional flecks of gold in the light, perhaps the incredibly deep darkness that somehow managed to house more comfort than Obi-Wan could ever express through words alone. In the simplest way to describe him from a distance, Cody was pretty. In a more accurate one, Obi-Wan could’ve pitted a thousand moons and a million planets against him and still found himself being drawn to Cody more than to the rest. 

He was kind, he was always doing his best, and he was the last person to deserve the things he’d undoubtedly been put through. 

Obi-Wan pushed himself up off the table and stood up. 

He had... _so_ much work to do. 

* * *

“Don’t you look like hell in an X-Wing,” Ilze remarked, giving him a once-over when he pretty much skidded to a halt in front of her. “I had no idea the Jedi knew how to walk in any other manner than over-dignified sauntering.”

He ignored that. “You still need someone to go pick up the new quartet?”

She looked him up and down again, splaying her arms. “Damn right I do! Three of my best are out chasing Imps over Bespin, apparently.” Beckoning him closer with her finger, she leaned over her counter. “I’ll sign you out a ship, lightweight and… hm.”

She crouched down, lethorns falling over her face, grabbing around a few holocasters before finally choosing one, turning it on and flipping through various fighter models. Their stock, Obi-Wan understood.

“No, disregard that, I’d be a madwoman to expect five people to squish themselves into a kriffing starfighter. We’d need to install separate hyperspace rings on the bigger ones, few of ‘em have the built-in… I’ll get you - huh, a carrier’s too bulky. Maybe a landing shuttle? Oh, yes.” She looked up at Obi-Wan. “You familiar with the Sentinel-class?”

“I–” He was, but Ilze was shaking her head before he could even answer.

“No, wait, nevermind, that’d be a bit too big… Okay, shuttles, shuttles… A-ha! Here. Found it. I’ll sign you on to a Theta-class,” Ilze decided, finally, grinning sourly as she showed the hologram to Obi-Wan. “It’s a landing craft, a bit aged, fits you real nice. T-2c ring a bell?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thought so, you ancient bastard.” She smiled, watching him chuckle. 

He leaned forward, furrowing his brows as he recalled something - “Don’t they use it exclusively for elite navy troops these days, though?”

“Well, they used to, but it’s long-stopped being uncommon to transport smaller squads, too. They’ll use anything for that, the IA’s grown so much they can’t manufacture capital ships quickly enough, you know. Nobody will bat an eye, not the Imperials, at least.”

He sighed. “But I might have to squabble with the locals, is what you’re saying.”

“Oh, don’t you worry your silver little brain about it, Jedi,” Ilze snorted. “Signal’s from Irnham, now, can you tell me whose territory that was during the Wars?”

He cracked a little smile, almost apologetic. “The Republic’s.”

“The Republic’s!” She threw her hands up, glaring at him with no real venom in the stare. “You can just whip out that stick of yours and they’ll bow like you’re a demigod.”

“That’s not how it works.” Obi-Wan shook his head. “That’s not how any of it worked.”

“Yeah, yeah. Regardless, I’m sure you’ll find a way. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and a slim tongue at that.” He chuckled again - he knew a few languages, well, that was true. “Alright, Theta-class, fancy, you got it. Built-in hyperdrive, scaled down a few meters for ease of control, got one medcap in case one of them’s _really_ on the verge of dyin’, but! It’s only got ray shields, so try to take as few missiles to the cockpit as you can. All that sound good?”

“Marvelous.” He nodded, taking the number she wrote down. “Cloaking is out of the question, I presume.”

“Do I look like I run a charity show?” She narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You’d be great at it,” Obi-Wan replied seamlessly, flashing her a bright smile. 

He didn’t think he’d ever seen her that offended. “The _second_ the Empire falls, my first act will be deleting your contacts from my comm and also maybe ordering an assassin on you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” 

“Okay, alright. Show-off.” She scowled, snatching the number from between his two fingers and adding something. “We’ve got two of those, hold on. I’ll get you the one with Imperial designations. That way no Imp dispatcher’s gonna be seeing any rebel action anywhere in the vicinity.”

He took the sheet once she offered, again. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” She spun around - and then, slowly, turned back to look at him with one finger in the air, digging around her flimsi for something. “Go take it now and - wait in the hangar for me, would you? That’s a favour. Fulcrum’s coming in for a ship switch, I’d appreciate it if you could bring her this pad.”

Finally, Ilze fished out a scratched datapad and shoved it to Obi-Wan’s chest. He took it, tilting his head at her. “Tano’s on her way?”

It was easier to call her that. It put less weight on the bond between them, the bond that had become easier and easier to manage over the years - it was like they were back in the Clone Wars, sometimes, with how light the chatter came, how much he realized he enjoyed spending time with his former Grand-Padawan. She’d grown into an impressive young woman. Not that she ever needed nor wanted to know it, of course, but he was quietly as proud of her as one could be.

“Oh, of course you know her. Yeah, ETA’s half an hour or so. I get the sense that you Jedi all know each other.” Ilze sighed.

He shrugged. “There aren’t many left of us to know.” No more people needed to know of his lineage. Enough did already. It never brought anything good to any of them.

A few seconds of silence between them, Ilze opening and closing her mouth a few times. “...Sorry.”

“Come now, Ilze.” Obi-Wan managed a little smile for her. “You don’t have to be my therapist.”

She stared at him for a moment before he flinched back just in time, narrowly avoiding getting smacked with a sheet of flimsi. “Oh, so you’re gonna be like that!”

“Just to keep you on your toes.” He tilted his head, shrugging lightly as he tried his best to keep both the number and the datapad in his arms without dropping either, jostled by the sudden movement.

“You don’t wanna know where I’d keep you,” she threatened half-heartedly, waving her hand. He could see a smile underneath it. “Alright, out! Out of my station. Go get your new friends off of Irnham.”

“With utmost haste, ma’am,” he bowed to her - and wondered why another flimsisheet passed just over his hair. It was only simple Jedi manners, after all. 

* * *

The Force appeared to like him quite a bit, today. He could only hope its favour to extend to the following few days.

Ahsoka’s eyes were bright, the smile on her face widening once she leapt down from her fighter and saw him, making her way over. 

“Obi-Wan!” she called, waving a hand. Unnecessarily, but he raised his too. 

“Ahsoka,” he greeted once she was close enough, smiling as well. It had taken a bit of stumbling around until she began calling him by his name - she wasn’t a Jedi and he wasn’t her Master, but calling him that had been a habit that she was quick to rid herself of.

Obi-Wan had been happy with her choice. She was surprised to learn of it.

Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him for a short hug, chuckling lightly into his ear. “Been ages, how have you been?”

“It’s been a month at most, dear.” He patted her back before pulling. She was all sweaty, and now that he could see her better, he noticed flecks of blood under her nose as well. “Whatever have you done to yourself?”

Ahsoka waved a hand. “Simple turbulence, nothing more. It’s why I’m here.”

He raised an eyebrow, inviting her to walk across the hangar with him while simultaneously handing her the datapad he’d brought. “Ilze asked me to get you this, if you’re in a hurry. She wanted you to pick a fighter for yourself, leave this one in.” He chuckled. “Ship switch, eh?”

“My stabilizers are ruined, and I was almost out of fuel by the time I got here. Cannons are stuttering, too.” She sighed, shaking her head ruefully. “I was on my way to the next Sector toward Hutt space from here, but I suppose I can wait to get mine fixed while we drift. Might stay a while, if you’ll have me.”

“That’s not up to me, but I’m sure the ship’s command will be happy to give you a cabin for the time being. Perhaps even mine, since that’ll be vacant.” He brushed a bit of gray dust from her shoulder, frowning a little as he did. “Now, I’d think someone like you should do better than be bested by hyperspace patches, shouldn’t you?” 

Previously focused completely on the datapad, she raised her eyes to glare at him. “Hyperspace patches - oh, you wish. I’m good at evasive maneuvers, but you try pulling off a spin with four other shuttles in front and behind. They banged me up good. Still managed to lose them.”

“Oh, dear.” Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder to look at her ship again - it was smoldering in a few places, sure, but otherwise seemed to be in relatively stable condition. “Well, in that case, disregard me - no, actually, colour me impressed. That’s quite a stunt.”

“Hah. Thanks. I’m not going solo for nothing.” Shoving the datapad under her arm, she furrowed her brows before looking up at him. “Wait, you mentioned your cabin? You’re leaving?”

“For the time being. Ahsoka…” He bit down on his lip, eyes darting around the hangar as he led her to the side. “I’ve got to talk to you about something. Then it’s off to the medbay with you, I don’t like it when the color of your face doesn’t match your skin.”

Ahsoka chuckled, wiping off the blood under her nose. “There. Fixed. Easy problem.” At his unimpressed glance, she rolled her eyes and brushed it off. “Okay, later. Let’s talk. Is it Luke?” 

“Well, yes, him as well. Since I’ll be leaving, I’ll need someone to watch him - I’ve been leaving him with Kharan, but I can tell they’re getting ready to sign adoption papers if I keep this up, don’t want to bother them further.” He chuckled. “Bail is currently… Out of the question, as you know.” Luke and Leia were often separated, even if they’d been kept in the same family since very young; two lights in the Force this bright would’ve drawn out all sorts of trouble. Obi-Wan was the designated uncle for Luke, most of the time. “If you’re planning to drift with us for a little, I’d feel far better leaving him to shadow you. Would that be alright?”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the wall with her head tilted. Pretending to consider it. “Hmm… I’m not certain, sure would’ve been useful to have… A relative on board, or something.” It was a gentle jab, but Obi-Wan still pressed his lips firmly together.

Ahsoka had been the one to drag him to the Rebellion. Yes, drag; just after the rise of the Empire, he’d settled in Tatooine, watching Luke grow with his aunt and uncle, the latter of whom didn’t like him all that much. 

It had been one-too-many close calls before Obi-Wan decided to take her up on her offer. Owen and Beru were good people, his stance on that was firm, but Owen’s near-hostility toward him made things - difficult, to say the least. Their home drew in Stormtroopers like they were flies in search of honey. He’d kept as far away as possible, trying his best to be both in range to help and invisible enough not to incite Owen’s wrath, but the man could be downright impossible sometimes.

Obi-Wan was nearly, nearly late, once. After a particularly vicious telling-off, he’d done his best not to agitate them - and thus only narrowly managed to roll off his speeder and jump to their aid in time when a band of Stormtroopers attacked the farm, going on false claims of hidden refugees. Owen was good with his blaster, but there’d been too many of them.

Beru hadn’t turned in time, and a flash of light flew past her. just over her chest. She yelped - then wailed, as she clutched Luke’s tiny form to herself, shielding him with her body as she ducked to cover. _Luke, Luke,_ he remembered her shouting, even through the blasterfire, as his lightsaber blazed to life for the first time in months and his core grew cold.

Luke was only scratched, he found out, in the end. There had been a dark gash on his cheek, and he couldn’t stop screaming. Beru rocked him, shushed him, fearful tears in her own eyes because of the scare - nothing helped. But he would calm down. It could only itch, that small a burn.

Owen had decided it was then time to berate him.

Something along the lines of him not getting there fast enough, but somehow managing to interfere with their family’s life at the same time.

Obi-Wan thought himself to be an exemplary Jedi, once, when he was young and still prideful. No more did such illusions cloud his judgement, but that only meant he’d used all his might to cling to whatever Jedi qualities he could muster up, self-control being one of the more vital ones that he not only had to keep, but teach to himself as well.

Thirty years of practice, he told himself. _Do not lose it now. Do_ not _lose it now._

 _“Remember that I brought him here, to you, because I must protect him,”_ he’d told Owen, then, quietly but firmly. _“If you do not give me the means to, I will take him from you.”_

Owen had never taken a swing at him, but that was probably the time he was the closest to. It was probably when Obi-Wan was the most uncertain he wouldn’t take one back, too. He’d been honest, he brought Luke here because he needed the boy to be safe, because Vader would never come to Tatooine. But if Owen insisted on keeping him away from the mission he had sworn himself to for the rest of his life, he’d keep his promises in other ways.

Oh, Owen had raised hell. Obi-Wan was ready to fight him on this one, however, because this was the only thing he was useful for, now, to be a shield for Luke, to numb his presence in the Force and keep those damned Imperials away - 

He’d never thought it would be Beru who stood up and suddenly became his starkest defender. Still bouncing the screaming baby in her arms, her eyes full of fire Obi-Wan had never expected to see, she tore into her husband so wholly that Owen physically flinched back. She made every point under the suns, the fact that Luke’s presence was drawing danger closer, and that while it didn’t mean that they loved the boy any less, keeping Obi-Wan away in case his Force signature messes with Luke’s somehow was outright idiotic. She reminded him that they barely had any water coming up and even so the most heated season was only beginning, and how could they possibly raise a child like this? They would hardly survive themselves. 

_“You’re right, Ben Kenobi,”_ she’d told him, and even though she was determined, there was a great abundance of reluctance in her words. She loved Luke. They all did. _“We can’t give you the means.”_

She handed him the little boy, lovingly wrapped into a bundle, just like that, and walked back inside.

Obi-Wan cradled Luke close to his chest, unwilling, for a moment, to look up. He knew what he was going to find, and did - Owen staring a hole through him like he’d set fire to his farm and personally murdered his entire family.

 _Well,_ Obi-Wan thought, wincing. _About that._

 _“May the Force lead you,”_ he said instead, even if he knew that saying it was not in his best interests, at the moment. _“And may it be with Beru as well.”_

Owen shook his head. _“Your Force won’t help Luke when the entirety of the Galaxy comes crashing down on him. You’re making a mistake.”_

 _“No,”_ Obi-Wan snapped at him, voice lilting into a stricter tone, almost military, almost commanding, and he did not need those memories right now. _“No, I don’t think I am.”_

With that, he turned around and brought Luke - and himself - to a different life.

He thought about whether he should remain on Tatooine, but he looked at himself and saw only his failure - he could teach the boy, of course, but the question was whether he _should_. There was something on his mind, reminding him that a child deserved a better life than this, a better life than he could give him.

So, he set up a meeting with Bail, asking his opinion about receiving a little brother for Leia, and the rest was history.

After joining, he set out for those five years of absolute hell, scouring the Galaxy looking for the dead, until common sense and the knowledge of futility made him return to his senses. And so he came back to the path that was set out for him.

One could fight the Force, but it’d do not much more than trying to fight the wind in the fields.

He’d only had one request, when he came to the Alliance with his skill and reputation.

 _Luke stays on Alderaan for as long as his and Leia’s Force presences can be suppressed sufficiently_.

 _You should have left him with his family on Tatooine,_ they all said, Ahsoka at the front, _it will be dangerous. There will be more close calls. There will be more challenges, there will be more risks, and you will be asked to protect him, if need be, and to guard him - run with him._

It’s what he would’ve done anyway. Except now Luke had a chance to be with his sister, a chance to practice in the Force, an ability which would’ve been otherwise repressed. He was happy, here. 

“Ahsoka,” he said, calmly. She understood. Read it out from him. She’d always been exceptional in seeing within the Force. 

Sighing, she pushed herself back from the wall. “Of course I’ll watch him. What sort of question is that? Always up to seeing my little brother-cousin-nephew-buddy boy.” Ahsoka pulled a face, making him laugh. “But you haven’t told me why you’re leaving yet.”

Obi-Wan took a breath. Looked away. “See, that’s the hard part.”

The focus of her eyes had been instant. “Is there anything on…?”

“No.” He shook his head. “No, the entire Alliance would be buzzing if we had anything on him. I know, Ahsoka,” he assured her, quickly, seeing the slight slump of her shoulders. “Force knows I wake everyday wishing we’d be hunting someone else. But right now, I’ve got something other than that. Which is - just as important to me, if I’m being honest with you.”

Ahsoka frowned, putting her hands on her hips. “What’ve you got?”

“I’m not - I’m not certain on anything yet,” and the feverish glint in his eye must’ve given everything away, she’d seen how he’d looked when he first came to the rebels, his restlessness, his sorrow. “But… Once I’m back, if I’m back in one piece, I might need to borrow Rex’s contacts from you.”

With parted lips and wide eyes, she realized. “You found yours.” It was hard to describe the expression on her face - a gentle and uncertain sort of joy, perhaps. 

“Not quite,” he chuckled, feeling a little lighter in the chest. “It’s more correct to say that he found us.” 

She smiled, finally, grabbing him by the forearms. “That’s - I’m happy for you, Obi-Wan. Is he de-chipped?”

“I don’t think so.” She shrank back a little bit, but it didn’t return the heavy weight onto Obi-Wan. “But his chip seems to have stopped working.”

“So you’ll go undercover.”

He sighed, thinking of the mask in his bag. “I’ll go undercover.”

Ahsoka pressed her lips together, nodding once, then going and pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Then I can only wish you luck, my friend. Bring him back safe. And yourself as well.”

“No such thing as luck,” he reminded her on instinct, drawing a chuckle. It was about time for him, Obi-Wan figured once they separated, making it for the ship that had been signed on for him.

“Oh, you’ll see,” she called after him, moving toward the hangar doors. "You're gonna have _so_ much luck. You're going to be unable to deny facts."

“May the Force be with you,” he replied instead, getting a chuckle in response.

“Yeah. You too.”

Unable to resist, he added, “And take good care of Luke!”

“What kind of sister-cousin-aunt-friend do you take me for?” rang her final words before he climbed into the ship. Shaking his head, he powered it up, but couldn’t stop the smile.

Truly, all of their lives were far brighter when a certain Tano was in them.

* * *

The landing in K’aru went as smoothly as was possible, what with the locals seeing a ship and immediately assuming the Empire was moving back in again, only this time to blow up something a little more vital to their planet - a settlement, for example. Great first impression to make, naturally.

Obi-Wan had no protocol droid to translate for him, but seeing him alone and with his hands in the air seemed to soothe them a little bit. After a minute or so, they managed to figure out that a language he and some other locals shared was Huttese, mainly Sign. Using this, he managed to negotiate a spot for his ship where he could at least dare to hope nobody would strip it for parts, promising to only be taking down a few Imperials, bringing them with him for interrogation.

Well, he _was_ going to bring a few Stormtroopers along, that much was true. What purpose that would serve differed a little bit, but Obi-Wan had always been lenient when it came to twisting the truth. Just a tad.

K’avara had been out of the question from the very beginning, and his scans showed a large concentration of Imperial troops around the main landing sites. This little port had been just what he’d needed - but the problem was that he’d need a couple of days or so to get to the last signal where he could find Cody and the rest. It did nothing to discourage him, though.

He had that fluttering little feeling in his stomach for a while now, knowing where he was going. That, along with the clutching fear that perhaps the chip had gone dormant in inactivity based on its most primal order, and seeing Obi-Wan would reactivate it or something.

That was why he took the mask. It was the last thing he needed, trekking through sand and red soil under the scorching heat of day and freezing chills of the night, but he took it to keep his men’s minds intact, hopefully, to be able to bring them back to the Alliance and then see how much damage had been done and how quickly they could fix it.

One way or another, nothing could change the simple fact that he’d had far too much time to accept: he’d missed Cody. He was looking forward to seeing him again. 

After his initial - meltdown, calling it what it was - he had a lot of opportunities to realize just how wide the extent of his failure was, that Cody had not only been within the Empire for the last seven years, but that they hadn’t been exactly trying to hide him from anyone at all. He was just a soldier in a sea of billions of identical others, and he knew already Cody would say it was not his fault because Cody was kind like that, Cody was _kind_ , but could Obi-Wan believe it? He’d given up on the search. He’d assumed Cody was dead, or, at the very least, far enough down the Empire’s throat that there was no finding him, now.

Wrong on both counts, apparently. Well, that wouldn’t be the first time.

Gloomy thoughts didn’t make his walk all that much better, but he persevered, tapping, every once in a while, against his bag. The lightsaber hummed gently on his belt, safe and sound.

Obi-Wan wondered how he’d managed to keep it with himself for years, now, when during the Clone Wars it was as if it just kept jumping out of his hand, almost like it was unclipping itself from his belt. Cody kept finding it, most of the time, so often that Obi-Wan wondered if this was just the effect of his weapon liking Cody. Truly, lightsabers had minds of their own.

He smiled inwardly, looking up at the sky. There was a layer of dust and smoke above the city and the sandy steppe surrounding it, and it reeked faintly of charred plastoid and molten durasteel. It must’ve come from the destroyed base. Obi-Wan’s heart ached as he stopped in his tracks for a minute, registering the imprints of dying breaths and sharp wails of all those buried within the ruins.

Obi-Wan would always have a difficult time visiting disaster sites, now, he suspected. Even if the Empire eventually fell and all their sacrifices paid off, he wasn’t sure he could ever return to Coruscant. The suffering in the Temple had been potent enough the single time he got to witness it, so what was there to be done with it now, when it had had enough time to cement itself into the very ground, into the core of the planet?

He shook his head. Nobody could control Death. It made no sense to fuss about it.

He pulled his hood tighter onto his head and kept on walking.

* * *

It was almost a day and a half of travel before he finally reached something that looked like a camp. 

Well, ‘reached’ was, perhaps, an overstatement of his tracking abilities, even though they weren’t exactly lacking. At the sight of the first solid piece of debris at his feet, Obi-Wan had raised his hand, just a bit, and closed his eyes for a moment. Among all the screams and the echoes of the past and the gut-wrenching peace of the dead, there was someone else. A string someone left behind them, a lead, a steadying yet grieving presence.

Warm, nevertheless, and familiar.

Obi-Wan had simply followed it. Finding them was easy, after that, though it was nearly pitch-black all around by the time he did. They had a little sheltered fire going, their new recruits, unseen from anywhere but close by.

Three was asleep, and one was standing watch, head tilted up, looking at the sky.

Obi-Wan’s heart flipped in his chest.

Here he was, Obi-Wan thought, slipping away for a moment and smiling underneath the mask, unable to stop himself. He wore his helmet, but it was cracked, in places, pieces were missing, and Obi-Wan saw the gentle reds and yellows taking refuge against Cody’s face, flecks of gold in his eyes as they darted to the side and noticed Obi-Wan with them.

Cody aimed the blaster right between the eyes of his mask with the speed only practice could provide, and Obi-Wan really, really hoped that Cody didn’t notice the way he flinched back from that.

“That won’t be necessary,” he said, quietly, and those were his first words to him after seven years, a continuation of a conversation that they never had on Utapau, that would’ve perhaps cleared up quite a bit, if only Cody had been himself at the time. If only he’d been awake, back then. 

But he was, now, and that was enough for Obi-Wan. He saw all the things he knew made the man in front of him who he was, the firm grip on his weapon, the hard focus on his eyes, the readiness to, if needed, kill to protect.

Well, Obi-Wan really hoped he didn’t blow this one and get killed by the man he’d sacrificed five years worth of Rebellion matters to look for. He wouldn’t reach for his lightsaber fast enough, if Cody decided to fire on him now. He shouldn’t, Obi-Wan hadn’t given him any reason to, but Sith knew how the chips worked, whether they flashed in intervals, whether seeing a rebel - not only that, a Jedi - would snap the device back into control.

But Cody only watched him, and waited, offering no answers to his questions until Obi-Wan answered his.

“I was once a Jedi,” he said, quietly, and then again, when Cody claimed Obi-Wan didn’t trust them. His mask was making the words hoarser, emptier than they really were. 

That was a good thing. If Cody knew exactly how quiet, how soft his voice sounded, he’d easily be able to read into it, find Obi-Wan’s love and longing and realize instantly who he was. Cody had always been clever - one didn’t need to be Force-sensitive to have insight into other people’s feelings, usually. 

He felt the uncertainty in Cody’s mind, the way he kept glancing at his three companions. Two were Stormtroopers, sleeping pressed up against each other like Luke and Leia did when they fell asleep on the ships on accident, tangled together like on the day they were born. The third was Boil - and Obi-Wan smiled, so glad to see the two of them, so glad to know they were together, most likely, when they woke up, that they didn’t face the memories alone.

The Empire was not kind to its Stormtroopers, but it got so much worse when the Stormtrooper happened to be a clone.

He didn’t want this doubt in Cody’s mind. He wanted Cody to know he could trust him, that he was never going to harm him, that he was going to chase down the wind if it blew too harshly against Cody’s face. And he wanted to do all that without outright telling him who he was.

This wasn’t going to end well. Foggy memories in his mind rose up, almost like they were from another life entirely, almost like he hadn’t been himself, then, when he made the fall and rose as a rogue assassin, making everyone he loved think he was dead for days, and how useful had that been, really?

And Cody had been so tired, he could recall, when he first saw him, after that. Cody had swayed on his feet, and Obi-Wan had reached for him, and Cody had stepped back. More out of shock than anything else, he later told him, but Obi-Wan felt what he couldn’t say - the deep prickling hurt, the disbelief and then the small fleck of anger that died down as soon as it was sparked. Although he was perfectly composed for the duration of the official meeting, he’d turned heel and disappeared as soon as it was over.

Obi-Wan had found him standing outside of the bunkroom, led him, unresisting, to the General’s quarters, and listened to him. He heard it all, the things that hurt and the things that made him feel warm, and all of them were true. And then he told Cody why he’d done what he did, and that he understood, and that, if it was up to him, he’d never make him live through that again.

Cody had accepted what he’d said, in the end, always unbiased, always empathetic.

Made him promise one thing, though.

_“Just - don’t deceive me like that, okay? Don’t do that. Ever again.”_

_Never,_ Obi-Wan had told him, _draar, draar, draar. To the best of my ability, as long as I have the choice, I’d trust you with anything._

And here he was, once more. 

Hiding from him again was a horrible idea. And it was also the only option.

His Force signature had gone blank so _quickly_. Obi-Wan had been startled enough to look over his shoulder from where he had straddled Boga’s back - just in time to see Cody’s hand, Cody’s frame, and feel it empty of warmth, devoid of everything that made him the man he was. He might as well have been a droid, then.

Obi-Wan had screamed, when he hit the water, but he still wasn’t sure if that was because of the breaking bones or the loss of half his soul.

So, Force help him, he didn’t want to feel that bright, persevering spirit turn to the dark again. He was going to make sure that never happened to either of them, that Cody, too, didn’t have to live knowing he was still a ticking explosive even when he was aware of what that could do. He’d wait. 

He’d wait.

Cody was here, now, in front of him. He didn’t need to know just yet.

“Can you?” Cody asked him, holding a rock in his palm. More of a pebble, really, but encased in a hard cover of clay and black soil. _Can you use the Force? Can you show me?_

He always would. It used to amuse Cody to no end, back then, when Obi-Wan was trying to better illustrate his points by making all the datapads float around him so they didn’t need to dig around, poking at one or the other, sometimes forgetting what he was doing and let the stray one thump to the ground.

Obi-Wan raised his hand. The pebble rose with it, slowly gyrating on its axis.

Oh, how easy it would’ve been. To just take off his mask, to show his face, to look at him and to say _I missed you, I missed you more than I can say, I missed you more than I can ever show, I missed you more than a Jedi should ever miss another person, I missed you like you were a part of me that I was born with and born for_.

But he couldn’t risk Cody returning to his previous state. They’d get their chips taken out once they got to the ship, then it would be safe. Cody would understand, as he understood back then, when Obi-Wan showed up with his hair looking like it was cut according to clone regulations and a stubble one barely could call a beard. He could always count on Cody to understand, to nod and swallow uneasily and still say ‘I would’ve done the same thing.’

Except Obi-Wan shouldn’t have. He saved Palpatine, that day. Oh, if any of them had a chance to go back…

The imposter of Rako Hardeen would’ve done his job right.

But there was no sense in reminiscing now.

“Wait,” he said to Cody, and kept the pebble in the air.

He raised it a little further, even as his grip on the Force waned, admittedly. He picked it up, and he cleared it of the dust with his other hand, unsure of what he was even trying to prove - just his ability would’ve been enough to convince Cody of the fact that he was a Jedi, and the fact that he hadn’t attacked them yet - of his trustworthiness, but he scrubbed at the stone either way, and then laid it down on Cody’s palm, all without ever touching it.

Cody watched the pebble at first before he turned his gaze to Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan could slowly feel his doubts melting away. Not quite to the level of trust yet, well, he couldn’t really expect that, could he - but it was now clear he believed him, when Obi-Wan said he was a Jedi, when he said he was there to bring them to the Rebellion, help them into the good fight, as it were.

And so he leaned back, content with him, asked him a few questions about where they were going and what they were doing - and it was strange, admittedly, to be spoken to like a stranger when he loved the man in front of him more than he could ever love himself, but every single skeptical raise of Cody’s eyebrow and every awkward shrug was a reminder of why he was doing this.

Obi-Wan settled. The stars were dusted over, the night was dark, the fire was warm, Cody was here. They were getting back to the Rebellion, to what was now Obi-Wan’s home, and, if Cody wanted, he could stay there with him.

He was so tired - logically, he knew sleeping wasn’t the wisest thing to do, even when he knew that he was now more or less safe, but exhaustion was never something one could ward off forever, and now Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and fall asleep.

Cody was watching him, unaware, trying his best to stare a hole through his mask. Unsuccessfully.

“You planning to sleep?”

“Are you planning to keep me from it?” Obi-Wan chuckled, and realized that it was true. He felt so quiet, in his own head, so sluggish, because not only had Cody always felt safe with him, the opposite had been true as well. To have Cody’s steady, if stuttering, presence next to him was like a balm to a wound he’d never known he even had. 

In spite of all, when Cody asked him, again, how he could be so sure they weren’t going to harm him, a sting of uncertainty went through his heart. As sad as his brown eyes looked, Obi-Wan remembered them staring him down in his fall. Focused, darting around as Cody looked for every trace of his survival. Not the slightest drop of remorse when he found none.

But there he was, now, blaster resting, untouched, in his lap, aimed very subtly outward, ready to protect against whatever was waiting for them. The barrel was nowhere near Obi-Wan. It wouldn’t be, again.

“I’ve always trusted the Force with my heart,” he answered Cody, and it was true, always true. Right now, the Force was giving his heart away again, and he could do nothing but watch, and there was nothing he _wanted_ to do, nothing at all. 

Cody couldn’t fully trust him, not knowing who he was, but oh, Obi-Wan knew Cody, and so he put down his head, and he fell asleep, listening over the distance to Cody’s heartbeat slowing, as well.

* * *

He hadn’t meant to call his name like that. He hadn’t meant to call him what he was so used to calling him, he hadn’t meant to give himself away in the most loving way imaginable.

“Good eye, _cyar_ ,” he’d said to Cody without even thinking, because he knew, distantly, that he was supposed to be a stranger, but Cody by his side made him forget so easily and so he’d said it, yelled it for him to hear, “Good man, good eye, _cyar_ ,” and of course it took Cody two seconds to realize why that was. Of course it was the easiest thing in the world for him to recognize - back during the Clone Wars, in battle, he’d slip up often. Both of them would, Obi-Wan more frequently because he was simply so used to calling Cody pretty much every sweetling under the sun he just couldn’t help it. 

That was honestly perhaps the worst thing that could’ve happened right now, though, because he realized it only when Cody knocked his hand against Obi-Wan’s shoulder and told him to come with, said it in that voice when he was deathly terrified of something, terrified and unwilling to show it.

Terrified and perhaps overwhelmed by the possibility that he was talking to a man that was, by all means, supposed to be very and irreversibly dead right now.

Oh, Cody cornered him, alright. Hit all the right places where he was defenseless, threw the fact that it was only him that would ever call Cody his darling, that he recognized him, recognized so many things, and then - 

_You swore to me, you gave me your word_ , he said, in Mando’a, and Obi-Wan felt his whole body go cold in an instant, _You swore never to lie to me again._

 _I’m not lying,_ Obi-Wan answered him, too scared to admit, too angry at himself, for such a simple slip-up, and here he was, as if telling Cody who he was hadn’t been his most wrenched-back desire since the moment he saw him again, as if he was doing it on purpose, and so he’d told him so, thrown it back in his face - _I’m protecting myself. Last time you saw a Jedi, you threw him off a cliff, I’m protecting myself_.

He didn’t want to hurt him, Force, if there was one person in the Galaxy who didn’t deserve to be hurt, it was Cody. Hadn’t he been through enough? But he was running out of ways to say _Don’t make me do this_ , and _The last thing I want right now is to knock you out and drag you to the Rebellion and then have something go wrong afterward,_ and, finally, most truthfully, _I missed you so much, I love you so much, if you were to revert to the chip’s control and aim your blaster I wouldn’t trust myself to defend myself against you_.

Of course, Cody was ready for all that. He could read it out in his eyes when he just kept pushing - knowing, of course, that he’d never outright force him to take off the mask and face him, but making it clear what this meant overall.

He moved back, finally, dropping his eyes to the ground. He was so - he was so ready to just accept this, come back to the fire - probably never to speak of it again.

Obi-Wan broke.

“Cody,” he said, but he doubted Cody himself heard him, his voice was so quiet the mask probably failed to filter it through.

His hands shook so, when he clipped off the vocal modulator. When his own breath came through, and hitched in his throat for a second, and Cody heard it, and his eyes got so wide - and when, slowly, the mask brushed down his nose, his lips, his chin and finally came off, he took a small breath and looked at Cody.

Something in his mind was screeching, trying its best to push his hand down to his lightsaber and take a defensive stance, because all the clones he’d faced in recent years had wanted his head first and foremost; he’d had to deliver them to the Alliance unconscious or break their chips himself, and neither was pleasant. But then another voice, that coming from his heart, reminded that this was Cody, and when he saw Obi-Wan he just kept looking, lips parted slightly, as he swayed on his feet and didn’t know whether to step forward or backward.

“Obi'ka, I missed you,” he said, then, and Obi-Wan felt like there was something melting within him, like his core was made of cracking metal and he was falling apart. He didn’t know if Cody could even tell what his response meant, the peculiar mix of a sob and some words and an untamed smile, but one of them or both of them stepped forward, and then they were locked together, as they were always meant to be, seven years ago, after that and now.

He sensed fear, so much of it, and disbelief, and warmth, all at the same time. He couldn’t tell exactly how much of which was coming from whom, but, frankly, he didn’t care that much. He had Cody here, and Cody spoke to him, quietly, and asked him about his scar and tried to apologize for things out of his control, the poor man.

Obi-Wan shut that down, apologized himself, for giving up, for not searching harder - Cody wasn’t having that, either, and so Obi-Wan just settled on the warmth of having him in his arms again, the quick thrumming of his heartbeat, the presence of him, in the Force.

“I missed you,” he echoed, pressing his hands to Cody’s face, realizing that if nothing else were true in his entire life, this would do. This would suffice. This would be enough and more. “I love you,” he said, because Cody was there and Obi-Wan thought he’d never be able to say it again, and apparently the Force gave second chances.

Cody parted his lips and said nothing, but he looked so - so _happy_ , Obi-Wan realized, when he smiled, and gently pushed closer, and kissed him, and kept kissing him, until Obi-Wan had to step back or they would’ve toppled over.

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Cody muttered, smiling, keeping their foreheads together. His breath was warm. 

“Oh, I don’t have a doubt about that,” Obi-Wan chuckled, picking at the chestplate straps on his shoulders. “But you have no idea how many places sand gets into when you’re not wearing blacks.”

“They call them gloves, now,” he remembered. Obi-Wan moved forward, their noses brushing lightly.

“They?”

“Stormtroopers. We’re not part of them, none of us.” 

“Of course you’re not.”

“I have you, now,” Cody said, like it was the only logical thing to follow that up with.

Maybe Obi-Wan had melted, just a bit, but he would’ve dared anyone not to, at that. Gently, he thumbed at the soft skin under Cody’s eye. “You have me.”

* * *

He’d treasure Boil’s reaction to recognizing him for the rest of his life, truly. He was surprised he didn’t throw a rock at Obi-Wan to make sure he wasn’t a ghost. 

Obi-Wan answered his and Cody’s questions about the other clones to the best of his ability, sending copious amounts of consolation into the Force; they’d need it, even if unknowingly. The situation - wasn’t great, and while they couldn’t say there were no clones in the Rebellion whatsoever, most of the recruitments happened like this - one or two of them would call from a crash or some deserted planet and be brought in. (Pairs or trios, most often; lone clones rarely reached out, and Obi-Wan didn’t like to think about the implications.)

While Boil seemed to accept this with a grim nod, Cody only grew more restless. And Obi-Wan knew why, reaching to soothe his anxiety with an answer he couldn’t dare hope for.

“Rex is there,” he said quietly, “he’ll be overjoyed to see you.”

Such immense relief flooded Obi-Wan it took him a second to remember that it wasn’t his. It felt just a little like the moment after he took off his mask, wariness fading into the joy of everything being so _right_. He only shook his head reflexively, keeping the easy smile on his face.

The rest of the conversation passed in a blur - they spoke quite a lot, even as his eyelids got heavier and heavier. It was warm, here, it was safe, it was nearly blissful in spite of some sadder words he said and heard. And when it was time to rest, just a few hours before night fell and they could enter the town without drawing much attention at last, Obi-Wan lay down next to Cody, waiting a moment to see if that was okay. 

It was.

Cody fell asleep without much difficulty, curled up at his side. Obi-Wan smiled, gently carding a hand through his hair again. He could hardly describe how appreciative he was of this; the possibility of it not being the last time to fall asleep like this, together, hearing Cody’s heartbeat slow into peace and feeling his presence at rest in the Force. It felt like he didn’t even blink, and it was dusk; and perhaps he jolted, a little, when he realized he didn’t have his mask on, until he took a look at Cody and remembered. And maybe he snuggled closer to the line of Cody’s warmth against his body, just for a few minutes, just before the rest of them woke up.

They got to the ship rather quickly, after that. Boil was still throwing glances of disbelief his way, and Cody was practically plastered to his side. Not that Obi-Wan wanted him anywhere further. Preferably ever.

There was a bit of tension between him and the locals again once they saw that he wasn’t quite dragging those ‘Imperials’ along like prisoners, but he managed to negotiate a little passage back to his ship nevertheless. Hutt Sign was really rather versatile when it came to bartering for one’s life. Obi-Wan frowned to himself, thoughtlessly, and spent about two minutes trying to frantically fix that when the man he was talking to took it as an offense.

They ended up getting inside in one piece, at least, all of them clearly eager to finally get off this dustball of a planet. Taddea had curled up over Zhade-Ran - there was a tendency there, Obi-Wan noticed, thinking subconsciously of Leia and Luke, again. Boil snatched up the remaining passenger seat, and Cody dropped down next to Obi-Wan in the co-pilot’s, watching their ascent through the windshield quietly. Obi-Wan couldn’t fault him for that - it was easily one of the more fascinating parts of flying a ship, watching everything get smaller or larger, depending on whether one was taking off or landing. 

He prepared the hyperspace and waited for the module to heat a bit, ignoring Boil’s rather rude comment about the ship. Ilze would have his head for that, he thought, chuckling to himself.

Ilze was the first to greet them when they landed, yes, and Obi-Wan didn’t warn them about her. She was an experience to be had first-hand. Perhaps he was also a little bit smug. And perhaps he thought that maybe _she_ needed a bit of a distraction, too.

“Right, right! Names, numbers, whatever. Those forms are supposed to look official, but frankly I’m on my lunch break, and I’m feeling very benevolent. Besides the lunch, there’s also the fact that Kenobi was a good boy for once and brought back a ship that didn’t immediately need to be scrapped.” Ilze looked up at them, head tilted, hands on her sides. “Pick it up, pick it up, I’m a busy woman, you know!”

Zhade-Ran and Taddea were quick to introduce themselves, probably more than used to it, having had to consciously rattle off their designations on a regular basis. Boil did so as well, for the last few weeks.

“Cody,” Cody ended the row, omitting his number. Understandable, Obi-Wan thought, shifting a little closer to him. Clones that were fresh from the Empire often did.

“And number?” Ilze encouraged. Cody scoffed.

“CC-2224. Commander Class.” 

“Right. Commander Class. Fancy.” Ilze put it down with the practiced ease of someone with the most terrible of handwritings, shaking her head. “Didn’t ask for that one, but you know what, I’ll jab it in there. Makes you a bit unique.”

“A lot of things make us unique,” Boil grumbled to his side, Cody nodding. Ilze shrugged, trekking far beyond dangerous territory like she was skipping over the pavement.

“I mean, I’on see it.” She had that little teasing smile on her face that somehow managed to be both infuriating and endearing. “That’s - not only for the clones, that’s all four of ya. It’s like I’m looking at a batch of baby Loth wolves. It’s both disgusting and adorable.”

“Well, for those of us with eyes,” Cody muttered, “I, for one, have had a huge strip of my flesh ripped off my face a few years ago. That might do something for your memory.”

She turned to him, eyes finding his scar, and choked on her laughter, shoving the datapad under her arm. “Yeah, you’re right. Come on then, those of us that are Commander Class and not-Commander Class - I think we’ll get along just fine.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Boil advised her. Cody chuckled to his side.

Obi-Wan’s eyes darted across the five of them - Zhade-Ran shaking her head at Taddea in exasperation, Boil and Cody with exactly identical smirks on their faces, and Ilze who looked like she was between the best and worst days of her life - and he figured, yes, perhaps this wasn’t the worst memory to form first, of the Rebellion, and the people within.

Of laughter. And new attempts.

He raised his hand, just the slightest bit. As he was already standing rather close to Cody, it was easy to intertwine their fingers without too much conspicuousness. Gently, he tapped out a rhythm into his palm. _All-good?_

 _Affirmative,_ Cody tapped back, and it occurred to Obi-Wan that maybe they shouldn’t have used the military code as he tried to hold back a snort. Cody added, then, _All-good-you-here._

Obi-Wan leaned into his ear.

“I’ll always be here, from now on,” he muttered, ignoring Ilze’s overdramatic eyeroll. “I’ll always be here, love.”

Cody glanced at him, looked him up and down, but decided to wait until they were alone to kiss him. The fact that Obi-Wan managed to read that much from the Force was almost downright funny. It took him a second to realize Cody had dropped his shields entirely.

“I know you will, cyare,” Cody said, tugging him closer to himself by the waist as they walked toward the first morning of the rest of their lives. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> kekekeke you made it through!!! i hope you enjoyed it!! if you did, consider leaving a comment ? <3
> 
> currently i'm not writing a continuation to this, but there are just so many Thoughts in my dummy head. if yall have Thoughts as well, feel free to yell at me too :>>


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